


Claim My Heart, Make It Your Home

by TripsH



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, kind of introspective i guess?, takes place during their first year of high school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripsH/pseuds/TripsH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Would… would you ever consider leaving?”</p><p>A fire could burn down a house easily. The moment Oikawa chose to, he could leave and destroy the houses they had been building since the moment they met each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claim My Heart, Make It Your Home

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is. This started as a practice drabble and then became this. Don't look at me 
> 
> This is the first fanfiction I've written in years, but my iwaoi feels were too strong to stay away from them for long. 
> 
> Not betaed. Only my tired eyes have looked at this a million times and tore it apart until I couldn't look anymore, so sorry if there are any mistakes.

They were silent as they laid curled up on Iwaizumi’s bedroom floor, the pain of losing the match earlier that day still fresh, but slowly dying in the silence as they verged on sleep. But Iwaizumi kept replaying the scene from after the match over and over in his mind. Even in the quiet (or maybe _because_ of the quiet), he couldn't get their enemy's words out of his head.

 

_“Why are you so resistant to joining me? You’re wasting your time and talent here.”_

_(Ushijima Wakatoshi was annoying and condescending and it pissed Iwaizumi off seeing how calm and unaffected he seemed by everything, still presumptuous enough to seek Oikawa out after a loss and dig a knife further into his heart.)_

_Oikawa stared blankly at Ushijima for a split second before bursting into laughter. The brunet laughed loudly, hunching forward and grabbing his stomach, like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Well, no one had ever said that he wasn't dramatic._

_The laughter clearly threw the other off, and Ushijima looked unsure of how to react. If this were anyone else, Iwaizumi would have reigned in Oikawa by now—either by elbowing him in the side or smacking him upside the head—but even he had his limits, and he wasn't going to deny that Oikawa trashing Shiratorizawa's ace was enjoyable._

_Finally, Oikawa straightened up, making a show of wiping tears from his eyes—whether they were tears of laughter or lingering tears from their defeat, Iwaizumi wasn't sure—and grinned at the ace. "I didn't know you were one for jokes, Ushiwaka-chan."_

_The other looked at him blankly. “It wasn't a joke, Oikawa.”_

_“Mmmmm,” Oikawa hummed. “My apologies, then. I assumed that you begging a member of the team you just beat to come to your school was a joke. That, or you're just an idiot. Can I place a wager on the latter? I think that's a fair request, considering that you just won.”_

_"What's holding you back?” Ushijima finally asked. "What do you have keeping you here? Together, we'd be the best in the prefecture.”_

_Oikawa shrugged. “You’re already the best in the prefecture, aren’t you? You don’t need me, and I don’t want you.” Oikawa turned away to face Iwaizumi, eyes dark and focused. “Iwa-chan, let's go.”_

_“Yeah.” Oikawa tugged lightly on his sleeve as they walked, not even sparing a backwards glance. Iwaizumi could feel the heat radiating from his skin when he touched him, feel his anger and frustration burning inside of him._

 ...

He had realized then just how much Ushijima fueled Oikawa’s fire—kept him hot and blazing. Sometimes Oikawa was a small flame that lit the path before them and guided them toward their goal, toward the top; other times he was a strong and destructive wild fire that destroyed anything in the way of his path without a second thought.

Sometimes it scared him that one person could influence Oikawa that much to the point where he’d devote almost his whole life to winning, where he’d spend hours practicing to improve and not caring if he injured himself in the process, where he’d entertain the idea of hitting a first year prodigy who he felt threatened by. Ushijima could easily put Oikawa on path that could end in him hating volleyball, others, himself.

Even with Oikawa’s blatant rejection of Ushijima's offer, Iwaizumi still wondered if something could change his mind. Oikawa Tooru was driven. He set goals and fought to conquer them, fought to stand at the top. Always, always, he was looking at what was next, sometimes even before he had finished what he started. That, he supposed, was a bit of Oikawa keeping his head in the clouds, and was when Iwaizumi had to bring him back to his feet. But even then, everyone who met him knew that Oikawa was meant to fly and that he would. High above the rest of them.

In the time that they had known and befriended each other, had grown into so much more than that, a lot had changed. But one thing that always remained was Oikawa. Oikawa was his constant, and Iwaizumi guessed that he was Oikawa’s as well. But with someone who was meant for greatness, when did consistency and stability stop mattering? And it scared him that for Oikawa, that could happen any time. He feared that the houses they had built in each other’s hearts would become broken, beaten down, and destroyed, where they could no longer remain and only memories were left behind.  

“Would… would you ever consider leaving?” His voice was soft, hoarse, like he was the interruption breaking the steady rhythm between them. Maybe he was.

(A fire could burn down a house easily. The moment Oikawa chose to, he could leave and destroy the houses they had been building since the moment they met each other.)

For a moment, Oikawa was silent, and he thought that he might be asleep. (Honestly, how many times had they both fallen asleep like this? Sprawled out on the futon on his bedroom floor, their legs entwined, his fingers tangled in Oikawa’s hair, Oikawa’s face buried in his shirt.) But then Oikawa pulled back slightly, looking at him, eyes bleary, but still beautiful in the dim light of the room.

“Aw, is Iwa-chan worried I'll leave him behind? You're not happy with the prospect of losing your nuisance?”

No. Not at all. “Tooru…”

“Well, I guess it can't be helped….  And you have the nerve to call me an idiot.”

“Dumbass,” he shot out, more as a reflex than anything else. Over the years, he had grown so used to directing the term at him that it was a habit now. 

The brunet frowned slightly, biting his lip. This was the Oikawa he had grown up with, who could be menacing, cunning, terrifying, destructive even, in one instance, and soft and fragile in the next. The Oikawa, who despite what it looked like to everyone else, was insecure and feared not being good enough. “I'm not going anywhere,” he murmured. “So don’t worry about it. I don't want to go to Shiratorizawa, and I don't want to go to some other school either. It wouldn't be the same.”

“Fuck, Tooru.” He clenched his fist, fingers gripping his hair more tightly than he realized. “I… I don't want you to let me hold you back. Even if you left, for Shiratorizawa, for Ushijima, I wouldn't hold it against you. I’d—”

Oikawa slapped his cheek lightly before taking his face in his hands—hands that had tirelessly worked with his own to build themselves houses in each other’s hearts from the ground up—and caressed his cheeks gently. “You don't hold me back, Hajime. You push me forward.”

(A house was not a home. A house could be left easily, without a second thought. But… maybe their houses had become homes, homes that they didn’t want to leave, that they had invested all of themselves in.)

“Huh?”

“I… I was headed down a dark path last year. I could have been someone like Ushijima. I could see myself as the best and only use my teammates as pawns and take everything upon myself. But… you made me realize that I'm not alone. When I become like that, you pull me right back down and keep me levelheaded. If… if I didn't have you, I'd probably be a hot mess. Emphasis on the hot part, though.”

He snorted at the last part, but smiled nonetheless. “Damn, Tooru. I made that much of an impact last year?”

“Don't get all high and mighty just because I complimented you, Iwa-chan! You shouldn’t let things like that go to your head.” Oikawa’s bright smile was back, eyes shining with happiness. If he could see Oikawa like this every day rather than someone weighed down by pressure to get better, to win, he'd be happy.

Ushijima may have fueled Oikawa’s fire, but there were also times when he decimated it, like a strong tide of water whose goal was to destroy the rising flames—who made sure that no matter how close Oikawa got, he could never overtake him.

And when the wild flames died down, when Oikawa began to feel particularly worthless after a loss, Iwaizumi was the one who kept his fire going, kept it burning slowly, vowing to not let it be extinguished. Because no matter how small the flames were, he’d tend to them, keep them burning slowly. Even though he couldn’t breathe life into Oikawa and make him stronger, he could keep him steady and constant even when he wanted to fade away completely. Iwaizumi wasn’t oxygen, but he still kept him alive.

“Come here,” Iwaizumi muttered, pushing Oikawa forward and brushing their lips together. Oikawa laughed softly, fitting his mouth against Iwaizumi’s and leaning into the kiss.

After a few moments, Oikawa was on his back, Iwaizumi leaning over him, their limbs tangled together and mouths fitted against each other’s. Oikawa broke their kiss briefly to breathe, but kept his forehead against Iwaizumi’s and arms around his neck. “Love you,” he murmured breathlessly against his lips.

“Love you too." And he kissed him again, soft and slow, and he knew that no matter what happened they had built strong and stable titanium houses in each other’s hearts that not even the strongest force could tear down, that not even the strongest fire could burn. This was their home, and it always would be.


End file.
